Suite Dreams Are Made of This
CLAYTON, Mo. Sometimes you're the windshield. Sometimes you're the bug.
Today, I am the windshield. Tuesday we took my bus from Minneapolis to St. Louis, 660 miles. It took about 11 hours and you wouldn't believe the traffic in St. Paul. I guess everybody has traffic now. Now, I know I should tell you about the bus, how big it is, how plush it is. And I will.
But we have to jump forward to approximately 5 in the morning on Wednesday. That's when we alighted at our hotel and I found out that the hotel was sold out. There was only one room left.
And that was the presidential suite.
Some people might think their hotel room is big when they open the door and say, "wow" and that "wow" echoes in the stalactite-festooned cavern that is their room. And some people might think their hotel room is big when they walk inside and see not just a bed but a table and a couple of chairs and they think, "This is, like, a parlor." Do you want to know what does it for me?
When you walk in your hotel room and there's a piano in it! A Steinway & Sons piano! (Of course, as Cindy said, "If you really rated, Steinway and the boys would have been playing it when you walked in.") And that's only in the living room. That doesn't count the formal dining room, the full kitchen, the giant bedroom, the sauna or any of the three -- yes, three , bathrooms. I've done well in my life, but this hotel room is bigger than my house. This suite, end to end, is 40 yards. I could time Santana Moss in the 40 from my bedroom. (I'm dialing "0" now to set that up.) When I was ushered into the room, the bellman said, "This is where President Bush stays when he's in St. Louis."
Well, I'll be here for a couple of days and if he shows up, I'm afraid he'll have to stay down the hall.